


I'm....

by ZiquilaLeo



Series: Naruto & Shikamaru As Childhood Friends [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Fluffy Ending, Gen, Pre-Naruto Canon Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-26 13:50:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18718342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZiquilaLeo/pseuds/ZiquilaLeo
Summary: I'm human."I'm Nara Shikamaru.""I'm Uzumaki Naruto."





	I'm....

Flakes of snow drifted serenely from the sky, mounds of it blanketing the ground and covering treetops. 

Naruto huffs a breath into his hands, warming them since he doesn’t have mittens like the other kids who have parents to buy them a pair. His worn-down jacket does little to shield him from the cold—the icy feeling in the air seeping through the generic clothe and prickling skin. He tries to ignore it, eyes instead focusing on the abandoned park. Only he remains, feet dangling from the swing he’s seated on. 

White. 

The color is plain, plainer than any other color Naruto knows, and too dull for his taste, orange has always been his favorite. But that isn’t why he’s thinking about it, it’s just that the color white reminds him of a clean slate, everything bad bleeding away to a blankness that entrances him and has him oddly at peace, because the snow comes either in late October or early November, always sometime right after his birthday which is the day of the Kyuubi Festival. 

Something about the whiteness of snow—the way it covers everything, affects anything—reminds humans they’re warm-blooded and they all need warmth to survive the cold—is a reminder that _he_ is human, warm-blooded, and in need of warmth to survive through the cold—through the icy glares, heart-wrenching words, and miserable isolation—a reminder he’s human, not a monster, not a demon, but just another human being. 

He’s _Uzumaki Naruto._

Yet…

Yet, nobody calls him that except Jiji and Teuchi-ossan, and he rarely sees either man daily, hell, sometimes not even for weeks. He’s honestly surprised he hasn’t forgotten his own name, and half the reason he didn’t was because of them, the other half was because he held onto it, assuming it’s a namesake from his parents who died during the Kyuubi Attack. 

It’s late October, he’s eight, and his birthday was a few weeks ago. Even now he clings to his name, _Uzumaki Naruto_ probably being his second or third most used line. His parents had to have given him his name; he overheard kids speaking how their parents came up with theirs, so his shouldn’t have been any different, right? Sure, he has yet to meet an Uzumaki, find someone with a mane of spikey golden locks, and faces that share similarities with him, but he _knows_ he did have parents at one point in time. How else can his existence be explained?

His name has been an anchor that kept him grounded as much as Jiji and Teuchi-ossan had. He doesn’t know _what_ he can be, Hokage sounds more pleasing than any other occupation though, but he does know who he is, he’s Uzumaki Naruto; and, as long as he doesn’t lose sight of who he is then he won’t give into the darkness he feels warming around him. 

So he clings to his name, and it helps smooth the cracks and pit holes he feels inside himself, feels it soothe wounds toppled over older ones that grow with each day in his chest, and enables him to bring a smile to his face to hide the pain he shoves aside that makes the suffering easier to ignore. 

Uzumaki Naruto is him: a mischievous award-winning grin, a laugh that’s louder than anyone else’s, a voice shouting above lung capacity—a mask of who he is and has ever been. He’s worn the mask his entire life that it ended up merging with him entirely, unable to come off no matter how much he tries to pry it—it hurts too much, so he’s long since left it alone. It’s him now so it doesn’t matter anymore. 

Even if he hates how he’s treated, he’ll continue being Uzumaki Naruto, wear the mask with pride, and _hopes._ He doesn’t know what he’s hoping for, but he’ll figure it out later, later when the snow is gone since he’d rather enjoy the tranquility enchanting him to be one with the snow and sleep.

Naruto flutters his eyes, forcing the snowflakes accumulating on his eyelashes to fall from where it perched. “Ah,” he says distractedly, eyes watching the puff of air leaving his lips. He full-body shivers, arms automatically folding against his chest with his hands tucked snuggly between his elbows. “It’s so cold.” 

He ducks his head into his jacket to shield his neck from a sudden gust of wind, the hood covering his hair in a pathetic attempt to keep his head warm. A while back he lost his only scarf he had and hadn’t enough to afford another with the amount of money he gets from the orphanage. 

Soft footsteps sound from the side immediately drawing his attention. When he turns around slightly, he blinks at the boy. He knows the boy his age, they’re in the same class, and if he remembers correctly, he’s the boy who likes to sleep a lot during lectures, but doesn’t know his name.

Naruto eyes follow the other boy’s movements, pale tanned hands removing the dark grey scarf from a thin neck. The other boy hesitates for a moment before sighing, stepping closer and wrapping the warm scarf around Naruto’s neck comfortably. 

“I’m Nara Shikamaru,” the boy finally speaks once he’s done to stare at him. After a long pause, Shikamaru frowns, eyebrows furrowing, “This is the part where you say your name back.”

Naruto is still in shock when he replies, “I'm Uzumaki Naruto.” He winces right after, hands fisting at the ends of the scarf as dread sets in the pit of his stomach. No matter how many times he’s shouted his name at the top of his lungs, for some reason he regrets telling this person, afraid this boy who didn’t know him would turn away now that he knows _he’s_ Uzumaki Naruto.

Instead the other says, “My Kaa-san said you can get sick if you don’t cover yourself properly. Why are you out here in the cold?” It feels like Shikamaru’s voice has mysterious powers, because Naruto swears everything has gone still, their surroundings going silent, and thoroughly turning his world on its axis. 

“It’s white,” Naruto answers without thought, but it’s the truth, “Cold. Clear. Clean.”

Shikamaru tilts his head in a curious manner, blinking owlishly. Understanding seems to flash through his eyes, a small smile forming on his face, “Ah. It is isn’t it? It reminds me of the clouds too.”  
Naruto feels a bubbly feeling inside of him, like he’s on cloud nine. It makes him laugh. Laughter easily escapes his chapped lips, echoing into the clearing and bringing sound back into the silence.

Shikamaru stares at him, smile widening. 

Something new is in the air, Naruto doesn’t know what, but there’s a shift he feels. 

A surge of confidence fills Naruto, urging him to ask boldly, “Want to be friends?” 

Shikamaru’s upward tilt of the corner of his lips is answer enough, but the other boy nods anyways. “Yeah. Kaa-san is making Hotpot for supper. I don’t think she’ll mind an additional person at the table. Want to come?”

“Hotpot?” Naruto tilts his head questioningly. “What is that?”

Shikamaru stares at him for a long uncomfortable moment before shaking his head. “Come on. You’ll have to taste it to find out.” And with that, he turns and begins walking away. “We better hurry! Kaa-san can be scary if I’m not at the table on time!”

Naruto stares at the back of his new friend, idly wondering if it’ll be alright. Parents hate him, and he doesn’t want to go only to be denied what Shikamaru has offered. 

Shikamaru glances back at him, pausing in his steps. “You coming or not?”

But, there’s a thought swimming in his mind, whispering to him he has to take this chance and change something—he doesn’t know what yet, but he has a feeling he’ll find out if he sticks longer with this boy called Nara Shikamaru. 

“Does it taste like cup of ramen?” Naruto bounds after the other boy. 

Shikamaru was the first person to step up to him and offer a hand, and Naruto is desperate enough to grab hold of it and never let go.

Naruto’s fingers curl protectively around the edges of the scarf as he walks side by side with the other boy. Shikamaru looks at him in disbelief, eyes unlike he’s ever seen before, unlike the usual cold or indifferent ones, but something that seems similar of the warmth the scarf offers him. 

On a white snowy day when the pitch-black darkness was trying to consume him, Naruto met a boy who wrapped him in a grey scarf that shielded him from the growing emptiness in his chest and from getting lost in the void. 

It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship that would shake the world. 

The End. 


End file.
